


Christmas Lights and Green Icing

by InnocenceInDeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Based on a Tumblr Post, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Derek in Sweaters, F/M, Gen, Kid Fic, Kindergarten Teacher Derek Hale, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Teacher Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:22:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnocenceInDeath/pseuds/InnocenceInDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a... prompt? Suggestion? By WhoNatural (derek-tion.tumblr.com), as part of a conversation on Tumblr. Not my conversation, I just took the idea and ran with it.</p>
<p>[I know we have Kindergarten Teacher Stiles but is there a Kindergarten Teacher Derek fic? Can we have one where Stiles gets roped in to bringing little Christina McCall to school and brains himself on the door frame when he catches sight of Mr H hanging up Christmas decorations on a ladder in a pair of barely legal jeans?]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So I Did A Thing...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhoNatural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoNatural/gifts).



> So this is my first fic... pretty much ever, so please bear with me and give lots of feedback, please. I have almost no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going with this, and nothing has been beta'd, except by my sister.
> 
> Also there are a few swears in here, just a heads up, if that offends you.

                Stiles cursed as he fumbled for the telephone. It was his day off, damn it, he was supposed to be able to sleep in. His bleary eyes took in the glowing numbers on his alarm clock. 6:52 am.

                “This better be important,” he grumbled sleepily, finally managing to get the phone to his ear.

                “Stiles, I need you to do me a favor.” Scott’s voice came over the line, sounding mildly panicked.

                He sat up in bed, instantly awake. “What? What is it? Has something happened? Is everyone okay?”

                “What? Yeah, sorry, everyone’s fine. But I just got called in to do an emergency surgery, and Allison’s still out of town. I need you to come to my house and make sure Christina has breakfast and gets to school on time. Can you get here? Now? I have to go soon, and I can’t leave her alone.”

                Stiles swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, already grabbing underwear and a pair of semi-clean jeans. “Yeah, bud, of course. I’ll be there in five.”

                Not even stopping to shower or comb his hair, he headed out the door, pulling on a t-shirt and a plaid button-down as he crossed to his jeep. Scott’s house was only a few streets away, and Scott came running out the door as soon as he pulled up.

                “Thanks, man, I owe you one!” he threw out as he got in his own vehicle and pulled away. Stiles waved before walking into the house.

                Christina was still asleep when he checked on her, so Stiles took a quick trip to the bathroom before heading into the kitchen to start breakfast.

                Christina came down the stairs shortly before 7:30, yawning and sniffing the air. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she squealed with glee.

                “Uncle Stiles!” Her gaze went to the counter behind him, where he’d just finished making up her plate. Her grin widened even further. “ _Pancakes!_ ”

                “Yeah, pancakes,” Stiles said, chuckling. Upstaged by breakfast. “Chocolate chip, your favorite. Now sit down and eat before they get cold.”

                “Okay!” She scrambled up to the table as he brought the pancakes, waiting impatiently while he cut them into bite-size pieces. She was pouring the syrup liberally over her plate when she suddenly frowned, looking around. “Where’s Daddy?”

                “He had to go into work, Chrissie. He asked me to drive you to school today, so you’re stuck with me until then. Is that okay?”

                She nodded seriously. “Yes. I like you, Uncle Stiles. And you make good pancakes.” She took a huge, syrupy bite to demonstrate. “When you drive me to school, you can come in and see my tree ornaments!”

                “Tree ornaments?”

                “Uh-huh! Christmas is coming soon, so Mr. Hale is helping us make tree ornaments and stuff. He’s _so_ cool!”

                “He is? So you like Mr. Hale? He’s a good teacher?” He’d never met the man, and he was honestly curious about how his niece liked school so far.

                “He’s the _best_. He brought cupcakes on his birthday for the whole class. He says he made them. They were _really_ good.” She continued to list all the wonderful things her teacher did as she ate her breakfast. He let the sound wash over him as he ate his own pancakes.

                “…and every Wednesday, we sit in a circle and sing together, and Mr. Hale plays guitar!”

                “Wow. I wish my kindergarten teacher did that. You think I could come sing with you sometime?” he teased.

                “No, Uncle Stiles, you have to work. And you’re too old to be in kindergarten.”

                “Too _old_?” He clutched his chest in mock offense. “Now you’re just being mean.” Christina giggled, and he glanced at the clock. Just past eight. Better get her ready for school.

                “All right, munchkin, you’d better go get dressed and brush your teeth. I’ll clean up down here.”

                She bounded up the stairs as he cleared the table and rinsed the dishes. Twenty minutes later he was lifting her into the jeep and buckling her into her booster seat.

                The ride to school was uneventful, and they arrived at their destination early. Stiles held Christina’s hand as she led him to her classroom, chattering about something that had happened to one of her friends the week before.

                Stiles nodded attentively as he walked toward the doorway, but his brain short-circuited when he caught sight of the inside of the room.

                A man stood on a stepladder, holding a string of Christmas lights. He was tall, about Stiles’ height, with dark hair and thick stubble. He wore a pair of soft, faded jeans that fit him like a dream, and his t-shirt stretched around impressive biceps and clung to his chest and abs.

                He bent forward to staple the lights to the wall, and his jeans tightened lovingly around his ass as his t-shirt rode up a few inches, displaying the divots low down on either side of his spine. Stiles was hit with a surge of lust so strong that he stumbled- right into the edge of the door frame.

                The _crack_ of his head making contact with the wood rang through the room as the pain made him curl over and grab onto his skull. _Fuck_ , that hurt. Tears ran down his face as he tried not to swear in front of his niece.

                “Are you alright?” The voice was deep and shocked, and a pair of shoes appeared in his field of vision. Stiles followed the shoes up past the worn jeans and tight t-shirt, not stopping until he reached a pair of eyes that were an indescribable rainbow of colors. They gazed back at him worriedly.

                “Sir? Are you alright? Do you need a doctor?” The hot guy from the stepladder was talking to him. The hot guy from the stepladder had just seen him stumble _over nothing_ and probably give himself a concussion. Crap.

                “I’m fine,” Stiles gritted out. “Just give me a sec.”

                “Uncle Stiles?” Christina’s small voice joined in. “Uncle Stiles, you hit your head.”

                “Sit down. Let me take a look.” The man gripped his shoulders gently and steered him into the teacher’s desk chair, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a small flashlight. Leaning his ass against the edge of the desk, he tilted Stiles’ head up and shone the flashlight into each eye.

                “Well, your pupils are responsive, so that’s a good sign.” He gently felt the edges of the rapidly-growing lump on Stiles’ forehead. Stiles hissed at light touch.

                “You’re going to have quite a bump, but you probably don’t have a concussion. You should go to the hospital, though, just in case.”

                “Mr. Hale?” Christina asked timidly. “Is Uncle Stiles gonna be okay?”

                _Mr. Hale_? He was lusting after his niece’s kindergarten teacher? Oh, fuck. Stiles didn’t know what he’d been expecting- the guy had been hanging Christmas lights in the kindergarten room, after all- but he hadn’t been expecting that.

                Mr. Hale smiled down at Christina. He had a dazzling smile, Stiles thought vaguely. “He’ll be fine, Christina. He just bopped his head.”

                “Oh. Good. I need him to make my pancakes. Daddy always forgets to put in the chocolate chips, and Mommy’s always taste weird.”

                “Good to know you only love me for my pancakes, Chrissie,” Stiles joked.

                “No, Uncle Stiles! I’d love you even if you didn’t make pancakes.”

                His heart melted just a little at her earnest declaration. “Love you, too, munchkin. Now where are those tree ornaments you were going to show me? I got to see them quick, so I can leave before school starts.” _And so I can make a quick trip to the emergency room before lunch_.

                Christina took his hand and led him to a corner of the room, where Stiles dutifully admired the glittery pinecones, salt dough trees and popsicle stick snowflakes until the other children began to arrive. Then he gave her a quick goodbye hug before beating a hasty retreat, not daring to look at Mr. Hale again in case he did himself worse injury.


	2. This is NOT a Coffee Shop AU... I Think?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is coffee, I avoid introducing Laura (yet), and Lydia gets an idea, an awful idea! Lydia gets a wonderful, awful idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter recaps chapter one, but from Derek's perspective, so... yeah. Might get a bit repetitive.
> 
> Also I fully intend to make this into a full, multi-chapter fic, but I'm not quite sure how AO3 works yet, so bear with me.
> 
> And for everyone who commented, I love you all and wish you nothing but good things!
> 
>  
> 
> In case it wasn't obvious, I don't own Teen Wolf.

* * *

 

                Derek arrived at the school at 8:00. He wanted to start decorating the classroom for Christmas, and that meant he had to do it before the kids arrived. He was lucky in that he taught kindergarten, so he didn’t have to arrive at school as early as some of the other teachers, but he didn’t want the students underfoot while he was using tools- especially power tools. Someone could get hurt.

                He whistled cheerfully as he hauled boxes of ornaments from his trunk. Tomorrow he’d bring in the tree for the kids to decorate. Today, he’d concentrate on getting the walls decorated.

                He found a stepladder in the janitorial closet and took off his sweater before he started hanging the tinsel garlands. He fell into a smooth rhythm, looping and twisting the different colored strands. When he was finished, he untangled the indoor lights and began to staple them along the top of the wall.

                He was almost done when he heard a chattering young voice coming closer. One of the students must be early. He smiled as he recognized the speaker. Christina McCall was one of his friendliest, most outgoing students. She wouldn’t cause any problems while he worked.

                He continued to staple the lights until he heard a loud _crack_ , and then he turned in alarm, causing the stepladder to wobble. The man with Christina- he didn’t recognize him- was bent over, clutching his head. If that _crack_ was any indication, he must have bashed it pretty hard.

                Derek was down the ladder and in front of the man in a flash. “Are you alright?” The man looked up slowly, tears running down his face, with a dazed expression in his amber eyes.

                “Sir? Are you alright?” Derek repeated. “Do you need a doctor?”

                “I’m fine,” the man said, looking anything but. His long fingers clenched in his hair before he slowly lowered his hands. “Just give me a sec.”

                “Uncle Stiles?” Christina piped up worriedly. “Uncle Stiles, you hit your head.”

                _Uncle Stiles_? Christina had mentioned him a few times. Her uncle- ‘not my _real_ uncle, but Daddy says they’re like brothers anyway, so it still counts’- was a deputy for the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department.

                “Sit down. Let me take a look.” Derek took him gently by the shoulders and guided the man to his desk chair. Taking a small flashlight from the middle drawer, he leaned back to shine it in the man’s- Stiles’- eyes. The pupils contracted when the light hit them, and he breathed a silent sigh of relief.

                “Well, your pupils are responsive, so that’s a good sign.” He gently felt the edges of the rapidly-growing lump on Stiles’ forehead. Stiles hissed at light touch.

                “You’re going to have quite a bump, but you probably don’t have a concussion. You should go to the hospital, though, just in case.”

                “Mr. Hale?” Christina asked timidly. “Is Uncle Stiles gonna be okay?”

                Derek smiled reassuringly down at her. “He’ll be fine, Christina. He just bopped his head.” At least he hoped Stiles would be okay. Head wounds could be pretty tricky.

                “Oh. Good. I need him to make my pancakes. Daddy always forgets to put in the chocolate chips, and Mommy’s always taste weird.”

                “Good to know you only love me for my pancakes, Chrissie,” Stiles said jokingly.

                “No, Uncle Stiles! I’d love you even if you didn’t make pancakes.”

                Stiles grinned, and Derek’s heart skipped a beat, even though it wasn’t directed at him. “Love you, too, munchkin. Now where are those tree ornaments you were going to show me? I got to see them quick, so I can leave before school starts.”

                Christina took his hand and led him to a corner of the room, where Stiles lavishly complimented the kindergartener’s efforts. Derek watched them out of the corner of his eye as he cleared away the tools and stepladder before the other children arrived.

                Stiles hugged Christina goodbye, throwing a quick, absent-minded wave in Derek’s general direction. Derek found himself slightly disappointed that Stiles didn’t even look at him as he left.

 

*****

 

                Stiles buried his head in his hands and groaned as Lydia laughed.

                “Really, Stiles? You got so distracted by his ass that you _walked into the door frame_?”

                After his trip to the emergency room- he didn’t have a concussion, thank God- he’d headed to Triskele Café for his weekly lunch with Lydia. It was something they’d started doing during college, a way to catch up and get caffeinated while simultaneously cramming in a few hours of studying. These days they mostly just chatted about what was happening in their respective lives as they ate sandwiches before heading back to work. Stiles still wasn’t quite sure what Lydia did, but it had something to do with math and probably involved a complicated equation for taking over the world.

                Even though his teenaged love for Lydia had changed and deepened into a strong friendship over the years, he still found that thought both terrifying and arousing. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever completely get over.

                When he’d shown up today, Lydia had immediately noticed the bump on his head and demanded to know what had happened. Foolishly, he had told her the whole story. And now she wouldn’t stop laughing.

                “Hey,” Stiles defended himself weakly, “it was a really great ass, okay? And I tripped, actually. I didn’t walk into it.”

                “You tripped- over _nothing_. I thought you stopped doing that in high school.”

                “I did!” He knew he’d once been pretty clumsy and spastic, but he’d grown into his limbs since then. Or at least he’d figured out how to control them in a way that didn’t make him look like a newborn foal.

                “And yet…” Lydia raised a judgemental brow. Stiles blushed.

                “Can we talk about something else now?” He asked desperately, “Something that is not my abject mortification?”

                Lydia took pity on him and started telling him about some new formula she was working on. It was way over his head, but he listened anyway.

                Stiles knew he wasn’t stupid, but he also knew that his strengths lay more in the direction of researching and finding patterns and connections. That’s what made him a good cop, and he’d take those over Lydia’s math skills any day.

                An hour, three cups of coffee, and two sandwiches later, Lydia announced that she had to get back to work. Stiles went to the counter to settle their bill, so he didn’t notice her speculative smile as her mind went back to their earlier conversation.

                “He tripped over _nothing_ ,” she repeated quietly to herself.


	3. I Think I See a Plot on the Horizon...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia's plan begins to take shape, Boyd is sort of introduced, and everyone else except Allison is clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of POV changes in this chapter, so bear with me, please. But I think I have a vague idea of how it's going to shape up from here, so there'll be more Stiles in the next chapter.
> 
> Again, I don't own Teen Wolf.
> 
> For anyone curious, my sister is convinced that Yoda (the cat) looks like this: http://farm1.static.flickr.com/198/487072391_3920b15cb6.jpg

* * *

 

                Scott looked at the call display in confusion before answering his phone.

                “Hey, Lydia, what’s up?”

                “Scott,” Lydia announced imperiously, “I’m picking up Christina from kindergarten today. We are going to the mall for female bonding time. You will call the school and let them know. Any questions?”

                “Uh…” Scott stammered. “No?”

                “Good. I’ll have her home by dinner.”

                She hung up abruptly, leaving Scott completely mystified and wondering what had just happened.

 

*****

Shortly before school ended, Derek was helping the children tie their shoes and wriggle into their coats when he suddenly felt like he was being watched. Rising from his crouch, he looked around. In the doorway of the classroom stood a petite, well-dressed redhead with a calculating stare. She met Derek’s eyes steadily before nodding to herself and striding forward.

                “Mr. Hale, I presume?”

                “Yes,” he responded guardedly, taking the hand she thrust out. She had a firm, no-nonsense handshake and perfectly manicured fingernails.

                “I’m Lydia Martin. I’m here to pick up Christina McCall. I believe Scott called to inform you?”

                “I did get a message saying Christina’s aunt would be picking her up. But you’ll have to wait a few minutes. School doesn’t end until three o’clock.” Beacon Hills Elementary had an extended-day kindergarten program.

                “That’s fine. Christina’s Uncle Stiles told me he was in your classroom earlier today. He seemed pretty impressed, and I decided I had to see for myself.” Derek’s heart jumped at the mention of Stiles, and the tips of his ears burned.

                Lydia didn’t seem to notice as she continued, “Do you mind if I take a look around?”

                “Christina!” Derek called. The girl ran over, dark curls bouncing. When she saw the redhead, her face broke into an excited grin.

                “Auntie Lydia!” she squealed, “How come you’re here?”

                “I decided we needed to have some girl time, so your Daddy said I could take you shopping after school. And I wanted to see your classroom and meet your teacher.”

                “Could you show your aunt around for a few minutes, Christina? I need to help the others get ready for home.”

                “Sure, Mr. Hale!” Christina chirped. Derek went back to the other children, watching from the corner of his eye as the animated girl dragged her relative around the room, chattering happily. The woman listened intently, occasionally pointing at something or bending to ask a question. Satisfied that the woman really was her aunt and didn’t have any devious plans for any of his small charges, he finished tying Isaac’s shoes before standing and clapping his hands.

                “Alright, everyone! Line up!” He called. The kids scrambled into a wobbly line in front of him, holding onto the shoulders of the child in front of them. It was a system he’d developed to make sure none of the kids wandered off or got lost on the way out of the school. Some of the other teachers teased him about his ‘conga line’, but Derek just shrugged it off. He took the safety of his charges very seriously, and anyone who couldn’t understand that wasn’t someone whose opinion he cared about.

 

*****

 

                Lydia helped Christina into her sleek convertible, musing over everything she’d observed about Mr. Hale and the class. He was a kind man, fiercely protective of his students, polite, handsome- and seemingly unmarried. At least, he hadn’t been wearing a ring. And the blush when she’d mentioned Stiles had been telling.

                “Hey, Christina?” she asked sweetly, “Is Mr. Hale married?”

                Christina, blissfully unaware of her aunt’s thought processes, answered “No.”

                _Promising_ , Lydia thought. “Is he dating anyone?”

                “Uh-uh. I heard him tell Mr. Boyd that he’d rather cut his arm off than start dating again.”

                That was less promising. But- “Mr. Boyd? Who’s that?”

                “The lunch duty teacher. He’s Mr. Hale’s best friend.”

                _Bingo,_ Lydia thought. Mr. Boyd would know everything there was to know about Mr. Hale. All she had to do was find him and make him talk.

                In the meantime, she’d extract as much information from her niece as possible.

 

*****

 

                When Derek went home that night, he found himself thinking about Christina’s ‘Uncle Stiles’. He sank down on the couch, and his cat jumped into his lap. Absent-mindedly petting Yoda, Derek sighed, remembering the smattering of moles across Stiles’ face. They made him itch to draw constellations between them. And his long-fingered hands looked strong and capable….

                Yoda meowed imperiously, and Derek jolted out of his reverie. Where had the time gone? The sun was already setting, which meant it was almost five o’clock. He’d been sitting here for nearly half an hour, thinking about a man he’d barely met and who probably wasn’t interested. Stiles hadn’t _seemed_ interested. On the contrary, it was almost like he’d gone out of his way _not_ to look at Derek. That was definitely not a sign of an interested man.

                Besides, his track record with relationships was abysmal. His first real girlfriend, Paige, had dumped him for a girl named Heather, and after his disastrous relationship with Kate- who tried to burn his family’s house down when he broke up with her- he’d been wary of letting anyone in. When he’d gone to college, he’d allowed himself a few casual dates and one-night stands, until the night his TA, Jennifer, had drugged his drink at a party. Luckily, Boyd had figured out what had happened and gotten him home safely, but now he swore off relationships- and alcohol- entirely.

                Yoda meowed again, and Derek set him on the floor before standing and heading toward the kitchen, firmly putting all thoughts of Stiles and relationships out of his head.

                “All right, All right, I get it. You’re hungry.” So was he, actually. He’d have to see what he had in his cupboards....

 

*****

 

                The weekend passed without incident. Stiles went to the McCall house for dinner on Saturday, and Christina told him all about the upcoming holiday pageant/fundraiser the school was having. Her class, she explained, was going to dress up like Christmas elves and sing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’. Mr. Hale had also sent a note around asking all of the parents to donate a dessert item for the bake sale table.

                Stiles was so busy listening to her stories and trying not to ask about her teacher that he didn’t notice the probing looks Allison was giving him. Of course, he didn’t know about the call she’d received just before she got back from her trip.

 

*****

 

                “He lost motor control just from catching a _glimpse_ of the guy.” After dropping Christina off at home, Lydia had phoned Allison, because Allison was her best friend, and best friends told each other _everything_. Especially about another friend’s interaction with their daughter’s hot, single teacher.

                “I’d say he’s definitely attracted. The last time something like that happened was in college, when the lacrosse team had that barbecue, remember? One of the players started eating that sausage in a rather, shall we say, _suggestive_ manner?”

                “Oh, yeah,” Allison recalled, “The one with the moaning and the extra mayo. Stiles tripped over Jackson’s leg and wound up in the player’s lap.”

                “Exactly. This teacher wasn’t even trying. I say we give them a gentle nudge in the right direction. You know Stiles is too socially awkward to just ask him out, even though I’m fairly certain Hale would say yes.”

                Allison had thought about it. It was sneaky, and Stiles probably wouldn’t appreciate their interfering. On the other hand, it sounded like fun.

                Fun won out. “Okay,” she’d said, “Let’s do it.”


	4. How Was Greenburg Introduced Before Laura?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Stiles visits Derek's class for Safety Week, I insert a lot of plot-relevant things, there is a lot of talking and very few couple-y moments, and Laura finally gets a chance to shine.

* * *

 

                On Tuesday, Stiles ran his hands nervously through his hair, straightened his uniform for the third time, and mentally cursed his father. A few weeks ago, the school had called the station and requested an officer come speak to the kindergarten class as part of their Safety Week. Greenburg had originally been slated to do the presentation, but he’d had to have an emergency appendectomy over the weekend, and he was still in the hospital.

                So, when Stiles had shown up for work this morning, his father had called him into his office and informed him that it was up to Stiles to take over the job.

                “What?” Stiles had sputtered, “How- what am I supposed to say? I don’t know anything about Safety Week, what-“

                “You’ll do fine,” his father interjected. “Just ask the teacher if they want you to talk about anything in particular, and then answer some of the kids’ questions. Easy.”

                _Yeah,_ Stiles thought, standing outside the door to Mr. Hale’s classroom. _Easy._ That was why he’d been standing here for the last five minutes, trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door.

                He let out a deep breath. _I can do this. I mean, sure, the last time I was here I made a complete fool out of myself, but right now I am a calm, collected officer of the law. I can handle seeing Mr. Hale again. And anyway, he couldn’t possibly be as hot as I remember him. No one could. Hell, maybe I’ll see him and not even find him attractive anymore. Yeah._

                He nodded firmly and knocked. Mr. Hale opened the door and smiled at Stiles, reaching to shake his hand.

                “Deputy Stilinski, right? I just realized we were never officially introduced. I’m Derek Hale. We really appreciate your taking the time to be here. Come in.”

                He pulled the door wider and gestured for Stiles to precede him into the room. He was wearing a green hand-knitted sweater that was designed to look like a Christmas tree. It should have looked ridiculous. Instead, it just looked ridiculously hot. It also made Stiles want to climb him like the tree his sweater was decorated as. This feeling was not helped by the thick-framed glasses he was also wearing. _Damn it, how can he be even hotter than I remember? It should be scientifically impossible!_

                “Uh, so…” Stiles began, determinedly pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, “the guy who was supposed to do this is sick, and I don’t really know how these presentations go. Was there something in particular you wanted covered?”

                “Well, if you could go over safety tips, when and how to call the police, that sort of thing. How they can protect themselves if anyone tries to kidnap them. I mean, they’ve been told these things by their parents, and by me, but I think having an actual police officer explain it might make them take it more seriously.”

                “Okay. I can do that. No problem.” The students were all sitting in a semi-circle on a plush rug, facing a beanbag chair. Stiles walked across the room and plunked himself down in it without thinking. The kids looked at him in confusion and a bit of surprise. Who was this man, and why was he sitting in the teacher’s chair?

                “Hey, guys- and girls,” he acknowledged casually, “I’m Deputy Stilinski, with the Sheriff’s Department. You can call me Stiles-“

                “Hi, Uncle Stiles!”

                “-and I’m Christina’s uncle. I’m here to talk to you about safety, so let’s get started. If you have any questions, just put your hand up and I’ll get to you, okay?”

 

*****

 

                Derek watched Stiles talk and admired his ease with the students. He treated the children as equals, speaking naturally and sitting on the floor with them. His hands waved almost manically as he spoke, punctuating his words with jabs and flutters. The kids were paying close attention, occasionally raising a hand. He always asked their names and listened patiently to the question, before giving a clear, concise answer.

                If Derek also admired the way Stiles’ uniform looked on his body, that was no one’s business but his own.

                “Hey, Mr. Hale,” Stiles said, pulling his attention away from Stiles’ legs, “how about we let the kids do a sort of mock emergency call?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, I could call the station, let them know what was going on, put it on speaker, and have someone on that end ask the sorts of things they would on a real call. That way the kids would know what kinds of questions to expect if they ever need to call 911.”

                “That seems a little… unorthodox. And I don’t want to take anyone away from their job.”

                “Wouldn’t hurt to try, though, right? And I’d rather do this now and have a group of kids who know what to do in an emergency, instead of a scared child in the future who needs help but doesn’t have a clue how to get it. Besides, Tuesdays in Beacon Hills are usually pretty slow, police-wise.”

                “Well, if you’re sure…” It did sound reasonable, and Derek would never refuse to help his students become more self-sufficient.

                “I’m sure. One sec.” Stiles stood and moved to the far corner of the room, pulling out a cell phone and dialling. After a low conversation, he came back.

                “It’s a go. Dad- the Sheriff- volunteered to do it. Says he needs a break from paperwork, anyway. And this way we’re not tying up the emergency line. Maybe you could write down the questions, make it a sort of homework activity sheet for them.”

                Stiles set the phone in the center of the circle, loud enough so everyone could hear it. As the Sheriff asked a series of questions and the children attempted to answer, Derek wrote down the questions. It was sort of brilliant, making a fun activity out of gathering the information that could potentially save someone’s life.

 

*****

 

                Stiles hung up the phone with a “Thanks, Dad, I’ll bring lunch when I get back.”

                He said goodbye to the kids, with a hug for Christina, before walking with Derek to the door.

                “Thanks, again, for coming in and talking to the kids. You went above and beyond,” Derek said.

                “Nah, it was nothing,” Stiles replied, feeling himself blush. “I was wondering, though, what exactly is Safety Week? I mean, this was just one day.”

               “During Safety Week, I have a police officer, a firefighter, and an EMT or nurse, usually, come in and talk about, well, safety. Sometimes we do a tour of the fire station.”

                “Just the fire station?”

                “Well, I can’t really bring a horde of five-year-olds through the emergency room of the hospital, can I?”

                “But what about, like, an off-duty ambulance or something? And you could come by the police station, I don’t think anyone would mind. In fact, we could do- you know in the army, they do this thing called ‘My Life in a Box’. We could do something like that, an ID kit for the kids. Take their fingerprints and stuff. The kids could take them home to their parents. I mean,” he stumbled, realizing how enthusiastic he’d been getting, “if you want, it’s not a big deal.”

                Derek seemed to take a moment to recover from the barrage of his words. “No,” he said slowly, “those are great ideas. I’d like to try them, even though I don’t know how I’d get a tour of an ambulance. The police station could do something like that, a kit?”

                “Well, we don’t, usually, but now that I’ve thought of it, we should try to implement something like that. They have ID kits you can print off the internet, I could get them together in case your class comes by. I think you’d need permission from the parents, though, first. And the head nurse at the hospital is Christina’s grandmother, I could give you her number to ask about the ambulance thing.”

                “Uh, that would be great. Really.”

                Stiles wrote the number on his police notepad and tore off the sheet. As he started out the door, he turned back and grinned.

                “And if the kids bring in those sheets with the emergency questions, we have stickers at the station shaped like sheriff badges. Anyone whose sheet is filled out correctly gets a sticker.”

 

*****

 

                Laura was behind the counter of the Triskele Café when the deputy walked in.

                “Hi, Stiles,” she greeted him, “the usual?”

                “Yeah, for me and my dad, thanks.” The Triskele served the best deli sandwiches in town. It made it a lot easier for Stiles to convince his father to eat healthy when the food was so good.

                Laura started assembling their lunches as she made small talk. “Things quiet at the station today?”

                “Wouldn’t know. I’ve been at the elementary school most of the morning.”

                “What? Why, what happened?”

                “Oh, nothing crime-wise, nothing to worry about. I had to cover Greenburg for one of those police safety things.”

                _Didn’t Derek say his class was doing the police safety thing today?_ “The kindergarten, right? How’d that go?”

                “Uh, yeah. It went pretty good, and I got to see Christina, so. How’d you know?”

                “My little brother Derek teaches that class.”

                Stiles almost choked. “ _Little_ brother?” Laura was 5’7”, almost half a foot shorter than Derek. He’d never known Laura’s last name, which was weird now that he thought about it. But he could see the similarities between hers and Derek’s features. Oh, Lord, he’d had carnal thoughts about Laura’s younger brother. What if she somehow figured it out and refused to serve him anymore? His father would go back to eating nothing but junk food and have a heart attack and-

                “Little, younger, whatever.” Laura finished wrapping the sandwiches and rung them up. Apparently she didn’t have the power to read minds. Stiles’ father’s health was safe. He breathed a sigh of relief as he reached for his wallet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't think most of the stuff Stiles talks about (the ambulance, the mock emergency call, etc.) would actually happen in real life, but this is my fake world and I think it would be awesome, okay? And really educational for the kids. But the Children's ID kit is a real thing.
> 
> And the sweater was for Swing_set13, who wanted more stories with Derek wearing knitted apparel. It might become a theme. A (not-so-)ugly Christmas sweater theme.


	5. Why Are Erica and Boyd So Damn Adorable?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laura (almost) gets in on the plot, Stiles gets no airtime, and Erica and Boyd try to steal the show.

* * *

 

                Derek called the sheriff’s department before he left school that afternoon and arranged a tour for his class the next week. Knowing that his evening would be taken up writing permission forms and emergency question sheets, he decided to swing by the Triskele and pick up something to eat. Even though the café closed at 4, he knew Laura would still be there cleaning up, and would be more than happy to throw something together for him.

                “Hey, Laura,” he called, coming in through the kitchen entrance.

                “Derek!” Her head popped around the doorframe. “How was your day?”

                “Good, great. Busy, though.”

                “Because of Safety Week, right? It’s a good thing you’re doing, baby bro.” Laura knew that a large part of Derek’s dedication to child safety came from his own protective nature, but his decision to implement Safety Week was his way of honoring Alicia, his best friend Boyd’s younger sister.

Boyd had taken her to the skating rink to play, and when he had looked away for a moment, someone had taken her. Even all these years later, she was still missing, and the person responsible had never been found. Derek had seen firsthand what that kind of loss and grief had done to her family, and it had had a huge impact on him.

“Well, I’ve still got the EMT coming in tomorrow, a tour of the fire station on Thursday, and I just booked a tour of the police station for next week. Not to mention rehearsing for the pageant. What was I thinking, doing this in December?”

“You were thinking of the kids, as always. But maybe next year, do it in September, yeah?” She came around the corner and gathered sandwich supplies from the fridge. “And I thought you were only doing the fire station tour?”

“I was, but the deputy had some really great suggestions, and it seemed like it would benefit the class. He even volunteered to make ID kits for them, and he let them talk to the sheriff. The kids had a lot of fun today.”

Laura took in the soft smile on her brother’s face and lifted a brow. “Just the kids, huh? Sure a certain teacher didn’t enjoy it, too?”

Derek blushed and scowled. “That’s none of your business, Laura. Besides, even if I did, nothing would happen. And he’s not interested, anyway.”

“You asked him?” Laura said hopefully. Not that she wanted her baby brother to be turned down, but it had been years since he exhibited any sort of romantic interest. Maybe he was finally beginning to heal from his emotional scars.

“No, but we met last Friday when he dropped his niece off, and he barely even looked at me. Trust me, he’s not interested.”

                _Wait a minute_. “Friday? You’re talking about Deputy Stilinski, right?” Stiles had been in the café that day for his weekly lunch with Lydia. She’d overheard some of their conversation, but she hadn’t realized- “Did he hit his head?”

“How’d you know?” Derek looked confused. “I don’t know how it happened, but yeah.”

The words she’d overheard danced through her head. ‘ _You got so distracted by his ass that you walked into the door frame?’_ And Stiles’ response, ‘ _It was a really great ass, okay?’_

She had strong suspicions that Stiles was not, in fact, indifferent to her brother. It seemed to her that he was actually very, very interested in at least one part of Derek’s anatomy.

“Oh, no reason,” she lied airily. “He comes here a lot for lunch, mentioned he’d been at the school this morning.” She sliced the sandwiches she’d been making in half and slid them into a paper bag. “Here you go.”

“Thanks, Laura.” He gave her a quick hug.

“Anything for my baby brother,” she said, hugging him back as ideas whirred through her brain.

 

*****

 

                Erica was happy to talk to the kindergarten class about her job as an EMT. Being epileptic, she’d seen a lot of ambulances and hospital rooms as a child. Now she could control it with medication and proper diet, but she remembered how terrifying it felt to be sick and not know what was happening. Telling these kids about her own experiences and how she helped people made her hope that, if they ever got sick, maybe they wouldn’t feel so scared or alone.

                “Thanks,” Mr. Hale said when she had finished, just before noon. “It means a lot to have you come in.”

                “Not a problem,” she replied. Mr. Hale was a good teacher, who genuinely cared about his students. Her son Isaac adored him, which was saying a lot. When she’d adopted him, he’d been painfully quiet and shy, flinching at any loud noises or sudden moves. It had taken a long time for her to gain Isaac’s trust, but he was still extremely wary of strangers, especially men. But Isaac came home every day almost bubbling with excitement to tell her what wonderful thing Mr. Hale had done or said, and how much fun he was having at school.

                “I was hoping, actually, that I could stay a while longer and have lunch with Isaac? I don’t see him as much as I’d like.” She bit her lip.

                “Sure. You’ll have to eat in the lunch room, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”

               “Great! I packed a lunch, I’ll just run to the car real quick and get it. Be right back!” She hurried out to the parking lot, grabbed the bag from the passenger seat and almost ran back to the kindergarten room. She knew most people probably wouldn’t be so excited to eat lunch with a group of five-year-olds, but she worked such long hours that she rarely saw her son.

                As she turned the last corner, she collided with a wall. Falling backwards, she squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them in confusion when her downward motion stopped. Looking up, she realized the wall was actually a man, and the reason she’d stopped falling was his arms around her waist. His very strong, muscular arms.

                “Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was a low rumble that made her toes curl.

                “Fine, thank you,” she squeaked, intensely aware that he was practically embracing her.

                He stepped back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. I’m glad you’re alright.”

                She nodded awkwardly, trying not to blush as she stepped past him. He fell into step with her and nodded at the bag she was clutching like a lifeline.

                “Kid forget their lunch?”

                “Um, no, I- Mr. Hale said I could eat lunch with my son.”

                “Yeah, Derek’s a good guy.”

                He stepped back when they got to the classroom so she could enter first. She scanned the room for Isaac as Mr. Hale called, “Boyd! There you are!”

                “Where else would I be?” the big man replied, smirking. Then he turned to the children and called “Lunchtime! Everybody got their lunches?”

                A chorus of yeses came back, but one small girl sobbed, “No!”

                Boyd walked over and knelt in front of her. “What’s wrong, Layla?”

                “Daddy forgot my lunch at home,” she wailed, “an’ he’s workin’ so he can’t bring it here!”

                “Well, that’s okay,” Boyd said gently, “because I accidentally packed too much today, so you can share mine. You like ham sandwiches and goldfish crackers?”

                “Uh-huh,” Layla sniffled.

                Boyd and Mr. Hale corralled the children into a wobbly line, and Isaac beamed when Erica took his hand and walked beside him on the way to the lunch room.

 

*****

 

                “Who’s the woman?” Boyd asked Derek quietly once the kids were settled down for lunch.

                Derek barely glanced at her. “Oh, that’s Isaac’s mom, Erica. She gave the EMT presentation, wanted to spend some time with him. I got the impression she works a lot.”

                “Oh.” He fell silent, munching on his Doritos as he watched the smiling blonde wipe ketchup off her son’s face. She caught his eye and flushed before giving him a tiny smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Sterek goodness in the next chapter, I promise! Just wanted to update, since it's been so long. I'm still working out the kinks in the plot, figuring out how to do better writing.


	6. Everybody Likes Danny. Especially Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Danny is a stellar human being, Lydia and Laura form an alliance, and Stiles falls a little bit harder for Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after... two years? Yikes... I've FINALLY updated. Between school, life, and writer's block, I didn't think I'd ever do it, but I'm gonna try to work on this over the next few weeks, see if I can finish it. I might go back and edit a few things from previous chapters to make it flow better, too.
> 
> Wish me luck.

* * *

 

            Thursday was the Fire Station tour. Firefighter Danny, as he introduced himself, was a big hit with the kids, showing them around one of the big red engines and letting them play with the station’s mascot, a Dalmatian named Pongo.

           “Pongo?” Derek echoed in amusement. Danny grinned at him, revealing deep dimples.

           “Yeah, Pongo was basically the best dog ever, so it made sense to name ours after him.”

           Derek smiled back, shaking his head. He and Danny made small talk through the rest of the tour, chatting easily about movies and books they’d both seen. When the tour ended, as Derek was herding his kids back onto the bus, Danny took him aside.

           “So, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab a drink sometime?” Derek looked at him. Danny was smart, funny, and good-looking. But his eyes were a deep brown, not the colour of whiskey, and he didn’t have even a single mole dotting his skin. When he laughed, it didn’t make Derek want to lean in and capture some of that bright happiness with his mouth. In short, Danny wasn’t Stiles.

           It was crazy, Derek knew. He’d met Stiles less than a week ago. He barely knew anything about him. But what he did know made him want to learn more about the deputy. Made him want to… take a chance. Because deep in his soul, one of the things he knew about Stiles was that when he loved something, he loved it freely, fiercely, completely… and forever. And Derek was beginning to wish that _he_ could be one of those things Stiles loved.

           Derek smiled ruefully at Danny. “I appreciate the offer, but…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.

           “You’re seeing someone?” Danny finished.

           “Well, no. It’s more like, I _want_ to be seeing someone?” He ran his hand through his short hair and huffed slightly. “I’m not even sure what I mean.”

           “Ah.” Danny nodded as though his disjointed explanation made perfect sense. “Well then, I’d like to amend my offer. If you ever wanna talk about it, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

           “Really?” Derek looked at him. In his experience, people didn’t usually take rejection so well. Case in point- Kate’s attempt to roast his family alive.

           “Really. I like you, Derek. It doesn’t have to be all-or-nothing. So just because you’re not interested romantically, there’s no reason we can’t still be friends, right?”

           “Right,” Derek repeated slowly.

           “You got a pen?” Danny pulled a wrinkled receipt from his pocket and wrote a string of numbers on the back with the pen Derek gave him. Handing them both back, he said, “Just think about it, okay?”

           Derek looked down at the paper crumpled in his fist and said, “Okay.”

           On the bus ride back to the school, he tried to remember the last time someone other than Boyd or his family had offered him simple friendship and understanding.

 

 

*****

 

           On Friday, Laura waited impatiently for noon to arrive. More specifically, she waited impatiently for _Lydia_ to arrive. Lydia and Stiles were friends, which meant she knew things. Things like whether or not Stiles planned to make a move on her baby brother.

           By the time Lydia finally breezed through the door, Laura was so wound up that she almost literally pounced on the woman. Lydia’s only reaction was to slowly raise one eyebrow while looking pointedly at the hand gripping her arm.

           “Did you want something, Laura?” she asked calmly.

           “Yes. Is Stiles going to ask Derek out? He’d better, because Derek is way too gun-shy to make the first move.”

           “And _how_ is this your business?”

           “My baby brother’s love life is totally my business. He likes Stiles, and I want him to be happy.”

           “Baby brother?” Lydia’s look of surprise quickly melted into a calculating smile. “Well, well. It seems we have a lot to talk about. Shall we sit down and discuss this?”

 

 

*****

 

           When Stiles rushed through the door of the café, he was already spouting apologies. “Sorry I’m late! You would not _believe_ the last call I responded to. I mean, clearly someone was getting an early start on the weekend, but that is _not_ the way nativity sculptures are meant to be-” he stopped abruptly as both Lydia and Laura swung their heads around to look at him.

           “Well, I’d better get back to work,” Laura said easily, standing from Stiles’ usual chair. “Meet you for drinks tonight, Lydia?”

           “Of course. You have my number. We can… _talk_ more then.”

           Stiles watched, confused, as Laura winked at them both and sashayed her way back behind the counter.

           “Uh….”

           “Never you mind, Stiles. You’re fifteen minutes late already, and I want to hear all the details of your safety presentation for _Mr. Hale’s_ kindergarten class before I have to get back to work.”

           Stiles sputtered. “How- What- How did you even know about that?”

           “Oh,” she replied airily, not looking at Laura, “I have my ways.”

 

 

*****

 

           Christina couldn’t wait to show her uncle her elf outfit for the pageant. As soon as he arrived for Saturday dinner, she ran to the door and did a quick pirouette so he could fully admire the knee-length green dress with the red felt accents and matching hat.

           Stiles did not disappoint. “Wow! A Christmas elf! Right here in Beacon Hills! Are you lost, little elf?”

           She giggled. “Uncle Stiles! It’s me, Christina! I’m just wearing an elf _costume_ , silly!”

           “Oh. Boy, you sure had me fooled. Where’d you get such a convincing costume?”

           “Mr. Hale made it,” she said proudly. “He made all the costumes. He can do _anything_. And he gave them to us so we can per-personize them before the pageant.”

           “Personalize?” Stiles corrected absently, mind still stuck on the fact that Mr. Hale had _made_ costumes for the entire class. How long must that have taken? And then he’d let each child add their own personal touches? _God, I just wanna lick every inch of his body and also cuddle him so hard-_

           “Yeah, that.” Christina continued, blissfully unaware of her uncle’s train of thought, “Will you help me person’lize my costume, Uncle Stiles? I want glitter.”

           “Of course, munchkin,” Stiles said as he forced his attention back to his niece. Following her to the craft supplies, he spent the time until dinner helping Chrissie add all sorts of ribbons and rhinestones to the outfit. They had so much fun that he didn’t even mind when Scott laughed at the glitter in his hair.


	7. Sheriff Stilinski's Name Is John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which not much happens except Parrish gets a cameo and Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So pretty much immediately after posting the last chapter I spent 4 days in a place with no wi-fi. I didn't even know such places existed anymore, but there you go. But I'm (oh-so-slowly) continuing the story, and the next chapter might require a "teen and up" rating ;)

* * *

 

                Stiles spent a few extra minutes on Monday morning making sure he had everything he needed. The kindergarten class was coming into the station today, and he’d promised to have the children’s ID kits ready. He’d spent most of Sunday skimming through websites, trying to put together a simple yet comprehensive booklet for the kids and their parents. He’d spent the rest of Sunday trying to make them look professional. But now he had two dozen crisp copies bound in dark green folders with the logo of the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department stamped above the words “Child Identification Kit”.

                He showed them to his father when he arrived for his shift. He’d told him about the basic idea last week, but now he wanted to see if his father would be amenable to making it a more official project that encompassed both the elementary and high schools. The Sheriff flipped through a copy as Stiles explained the logic behind each portion, letting out an occasional ‘hmm’ as he read.

                “…And I just think it’s something we should look into doing. I mean, this way if, god forbid, something happens to one of the kids, the parents have everything in one place. I mean, they’ll probably be going out of their minds, they won’t be able to think straight. This way they won’t have to.” Stiles’ ramble finally slowed to a stop as his father held out his hand.

                “Alright, kid, you’ve convinced me. I’ll have to look into the particulars, but if and when I get this thing running, I expect you to take point. This was your idea, it’ll be your responsibility. We’ll see how it goes. Fair enough?”

                “Totally. You’re the best, Dad.”

                “Now get out of my office. Kids should be here soon, and you’ve got a tour to give.” He smiled fondly at his son as Stiles gave a smart salute before stumbling to the door.

 

*****

 

                Derek didn’t dress up because he was going to see Stiles. He just felt like wearing the soft blue button-up with the darker cardigan. It was- professional. That was it. It wasn’t because he’d been told the color complimented his eyes. And if he spent an extra few minutes on his hair, well, that was just… good grooming.

                When he and Boyd herded the class through the doors of the station, he was sure that he could behave in a completely normal, non-obvious way around the deputy.

                That surety lasted the two seconds it took him to spot the other man. Stiles had apparently had some sort of doughnut malfunction, and was holding the chocolate-topped shell in one hand while attempting to lick what looked like the entirety of the custard filling from the other.

              He spotted the group, and his eyes widened. Pulling his mouth off his fingers, he said quickly, “Be with you in a sec,” and disappeared into the room behind him. A few moments later he came back, drying his hands on a paper towel and chewing rapidly.

                “Sorry about that,” he said after swallowing. “The darn thing exploded in my hand.”

                The kids laughed, but Derek didn’t trust himself to speak. Luckily, Boyd stepped in.

                “Deputy Stilinski? I’m Boyd. I’m helping with the kids today. Where do you want to start?”

                “Call me Stiles, please. Uh, I thought we could split the kids into groups to help this go faster. There are different… activity stations, I guess? So each group can spend ten minutes doing one thing, then they swap. Fingerprinting, tour of the holding cells- don’t worry, they’re empty; and the patrol car. Then everyone meets back here and I’ll hand out stickers to the kids who filled out their question sheets from last week. Sound good?”

                Derek found his voice. “Split them up how? That’s three groups, but Boyd and I are the only chaperones.”

                “Well, the group getting fingerprinted is gonna be smack in the middle of the bullpen, so I figure every cop in the room will be watching them. Safe as houses. As for the other two, Parrish and I can each take a group, with one of you as backup. There’s what, about…” he quickly counted, “seven kids per group? Should be fine.”

                “All right.”

                “Great.” Stiles propped his hip on the edge of the nearest desk, grabbed a pen and a green folder from a stack, and shoved them into Derek’s hand.

                “Here. Get them to line up, and as each one comes by, write their name on the first sheet.” He pointed to the right line on the page. “Then the first seven head over to Greenburg, he’ll take their fingerprints.” He nodded at another deputy a few desks over.

                “And Parrish, here,” he waved over another deputy and clapped him on the shoulder, ”will take the second group through the holding cells with one of you.”

                “Nice to meet you,” Parrish grinned, reaching across Stiles to shake hands with Derek and Boyd. “Stiles has been falling all over himself with excitement about this project.”

                Boyd rumbled a short introduction consisting only of his last name, and Derek was a half-second late with his own, being too distracted by Stiles’ casual proximity.

                Oblivious, Stiles breezed on. “The final group and remaining chaperone will be lucky enough to accompany _me_ to the patrol car and push all the buttons. Let’s get started.”

 

*****

 

                When Stiles had looked up from the remnants of his Boston Cream doughnut and seen Mr. Hale, he’d almost choked. The teacher looked so proper, with a soft-looking cardigan and neatly styled hair. Stiles wanted to mess him up. Wanted to- he’d drawn himself back from his fantasies and forced himself to behave. He was at work, there were small children nearby… and Hale had once again witnessed him failing at life. No way did Stiles have any chance with him.

                Even when he and Mr. Hale had somehow ended up chaperoning the same group, he’d kept his cool. He’d shown the kids which buttons to press to turn on the lights and sirens, answered various questions, and generally enjoyed himself. He was confident Hale hadn’t caught on to Stiles’ hopeless interest.

                But Stiles had forgotten to take his coworkers into account. They were detectives, and detectives were excellent at piecing together clues.

 

*****

 

                John Stilinski knew that look. It was more subtle than the one his son used to wear around Lydia, but it was still obvious to him. Stiles was smitten with Christina’s teacher. And John had noticed Hale darting shy glances at his son when he thought no one was looking. Unfortunately, it seemed neither had noticed their feelings were reciprocated.

                The sheriff sighed. Stiles never did make it easy on himself. John had been one of the officers on the Kate Argent arson case, and he remembered Derek Hale. Before Kate, the boy had been popular and outgoing, star of the basketball team. After, he’d retreated into himself and never quite recovered.

But, he thought to himself with a small smile, if anyone could wear away Hale’s armour and win his carefully shielded heart, it would be his stubborn, awkward, loving son.

He looked forward to the day Stiles brought the man to dinner.


End file.
